Things Are Not as They Should Be
by M J Azilem
Summary: When Holmes arrives home after completing a case things are not as they should be. Watson is missing and possibly hurt. Who took the doctor? Can Holmes find him in time?
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: This is set early when Holmes and Watson are first living and working together. Please excuse any grammatical errors, I'm writing but I'm not a professional writer. I was picturing a young Jude Law/ Ian Hart Watson in this but of course you can picture whatever cast you fancy.

I don't own anything.

Friendship, No Slash.

Part:1

Sherlock Holmes arrived at 221 Bakers street late in the evening after wraping up his latest case. It was a little thing not a case of life or death but it had been a good puzzle. He was please it had all resolved nice and tidy without loose ends and he was eager to tell Watson all about it.

He opened the front door and upon stepping inside was struck by how dark the house was. It wasn't right at all it was only slightly after eight, Mrs. Hudson should not have been in bed. Unless she was ill, he recalled her being very healthy when he left that morning. Yet the house was dark.

Holmes climbed the stairs to the second floor rooms that he and Watson shared. They were just as dark as the down stairs, no fire, no lamps lit. He didn't remember hearing that Watson would be out this evening, there was always the chance that he just hadn't been paying attention, or that Watson had made last minute plans. But for Watson and Mrs. Hudson to both be out at this hour was odd. They could have gone out together he supposed. He dismissed that idea with a slight chuckle and lit a lamp in the sitting room, turning it up high.

Instantly he knew it was not by plan the house was empty.

He scanned the room taking in and analyzing what he saw. Things had been moved, the couch and table had been pushed aside, the area rug was gone. There were marks on the floor that indicated a scuffle. The evening paper and a few books were strewn on the bare floor. Perhaps something had happened to the carpet that Watson had to enlist the help of Mrs. Hudson in disposing of it. Holmes tried to convince himself that something innocent was the cause when he knew it was more likely something sinister.

Holmes moved cautiously through the room trying to glean what had happened from the shoe marks on the floor. Then he heard a noise he didn't expect. It sounded like a sob. There in the dim room he turned around fast but could see no source. Hearing it again it became apparent that the noise was coming from behind couch but the couch was pushed all the way up against the wall.

The closet.

Holmes set the lamp down hastily and by the arm moved the couch away from the wall. In the closet half hidden by coats a softly sobbing Mrs. Hudson sat on the floor.

"Mrs. Hudson." Holmes gently helped the older woman up. She stood "Oh Mr. Holmes..." and sobbed a little harder against his chest. He comforted her the best that he could. She was frightened and trembled in his arms.

"I need you to tell me what happened." He stated as calmly as he could in his urgent need to know.

"Oh Dr. Watson..." Mrs. Hudson cried mournfully.

"Please Mrs. Hudson I need the details of what happened here tonight." His plea seemed to reach her and she tearily began to recount.

"I was getting ready to prepare supper. The doctor was here in the sitting room reading as he often does in the evening. There was a knocking at the door that I promptly answered. I wish I had not. As soon as I unlocked it two men pushed their way in and up the stairs. I ran after them insisting they stop at once. The young doctor came to see what the trouble was. They had weapons with them..." Mrs. Hudson sobbed loudly at the thought.

"Continue." Holmes prompted with baited breath.

"They hit him, the man must have had a club. Dr. Watson came out of the sitting room, the men pushed him back. Before the doctor could do anything to stop him the man hit him just above his knee. Oh it was a horrible horrible thing. The pain on poor Dr. Watson's face. Can you believe it a cold terrible thing to do to a wounded veteran no less. Dr. Watson fell to the floor clutching his leg unable to defend himself. I tried to get to him. I would have liked to have gotten between the poor man and those creatures. But the one grabbed me and shut me in the closet. The last I saw the other man was standing over the doctor with an evil smile on his face." Mrs. Hudson moved around and dropped down onto the couch and wrung the handkerchief Holmes gave her.

"You say these men went straight upstairs and attacked Dr. Watson?" Holmes interrogated. Mrs. Hudson nodded in conformation. "They said nothing?"

"Not a word that I heard." She sniffled.

"And you said the man hit Watson in the leg with a club? Which leg?"

"Why his right one, Mr. Holmes. The one that was wounded. That's why he was in such pain he couldn't fight them off, I'm sure"

"When he came from the sitting room he using a cane?" Holmes began to put pieces of the puzzle in place.

"No he wasn't using it, he was carrying it as if he might hit someone with it." Holmes could picture his friend clear as day, he had often used his cane as a weapon.

"Was he limping?" Mrs. Hudson thought about the question.

"I couldn't say if he was limping or not in that moment, but you know as well as I how much stronger and healthier Dr. Watson has been getting these past few months."

"Yes yes I do." Holmes peered across the dimly lit room, his friend had been doing very well recently. "So these men came with an objective. They knew Watson, or at least of him."

"Oh dear, you don't think... oh my." Mrs. Hudson started to get hysterical once more.

"Calm your self, I do not think they have killed him, at least they did not do it here. I surmise they knocked him unconscious, rolled him in the carpet, and then carried him out of here as if they were innocent moving men." Holmes picked up the lamp and took Mrs. Hudson by the arm. "Come. You should alert the police and see if your friend Mrs. Warren will come and sit with you to calm your nerves." Holmes left Mrs. Hudson in the dark downstairs hallway. "I must follow the trail."

The trail wasn't hard to pick up. After questioning people in the area Holmes found that there had indeed been two men who took a carpet from his residence that evening. The paper seller on the corner had even seen the name on the cart the men had driven away in. 'Mr. Wick Resale Dealer'

It was only a matter then of finding where the cart had gone. By all accounts it was headed east when it left Bakers Street.

It wasn't hard to find after that, the men had made very little attempt to cover their tracks. Perhaps they were amateurs and knew no better. But they certainly seemed to know Dr. Watson surely they would know that he worked and lived with the detective Sherlock Holmes. Which meant they either wished to be caught or more unnerving to Holmes they did not care if they were caught.

Holmes followed the trail diligently for two hours, which meant that Watson had been in their possession rough five hours. The trail lead to a boarded up storefront in south east London. The cart that Holmes had been following was in the alleyway beside the store carelessly left where anyone could find it.

The windows were not boarded as tightly as they could have been making it possible for Holmes to peer through gap in the boards. The front of the store was vacant but Holmes could easily see that the back of the store was not. It was well lit. Moving cautiously down the alley, Holmes looked for another window in or something that would tell him who he was dealing with.

Luck was with him. There was a door into the alley and it opened. Ducking behind a stack of crates the detective could now see two of his friend's captors. Probably the same two who had abducted Watson. They looked gruff in the harsh lamp light as one held the door and the other picked up a bucket from outside.

They were military men that was clear from their stance and mannerisms if not their appearance. They were ex military in fact Holmes was reassured of this by the fact that one of the men only had one arm.

The man with one arm pulled the door closed quickly behind the man with the bucket. There was however an open vent above the closed door that Holmes only needed to get up too to see in.

he deftly moved the crates he had been hiding behind so that he could stand on them and see down through the vent.

The inside was brightly lit. As his eyes adjusted his heart broke. He'd found Watson.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

Watson lay on a bare cement floor in what appeared to be the back storage room for the front store. The store room shelves were empty and pushed back creating the open area where Watson lay.

He was unconscious and the two men stood menacingly over him. He must have been slipping in and out of consciousness because his clothes and the area around him were already wet when the man with the bucket dumped it's contents onto the doctor. It must have been cold rain water in the bucket because it shocked Watson awake.

He slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and shook his dripping head with a groan. Watson glared in the direction of his captors.

Holmes followed his friend's focus. There were three men with Watson in the storage room. The man with one arm, the man with the bucket, and a man with no legs.

At least two out of the three men were maimed soldiers which added another layer to this kidnapping.

"I do wish you would stop passing out Doctor. I believe our time together is drawing to it's conclusion and I really do not want to waste a moment of it." the man in the wheelchair spoke in a sickly sweet tone that screamed insanity.

"You're mad." Watson spat horsely.

The man bristled in his chair and the one armed man kicked their captive in the stomach. Holmes watched as Watson coughed and sputtered. The prone man hugged his stomach, his face pressed against the cold wet floor.

"We've been over this Doctor..." The legless man began a tirade. It became obvious to Holmes watching that this was the outcome that Watson had wished. He was stalling whatever his three captors had in mind as the big finally. "We have every right to be mad. You butcher, you did this to us. Three strong noble soldiers, you cut us down in the prime of our life and left us with nothing. While u got everything." The man glared down at Watson with hatred and jealousy.

The man who had the bucket became agitated. He shouted in his frustration "Enough of this talking lets get this over with." The man reached behind him grabbing a knife. When he turned Holmes could see the man was missing an ear.

He couldn't observe any longer Holmes had to act. Watson was in serious danger.

Jumping down off the crates Holmes grabbed his gun and without a second thought he kicked the door. The door broke on his second kick. Inside the room the two soldiers with legs rushed at him but were halted by Holmes's gun pointed at them.

"Stop Mr. Holmes." the legless man countered. He had his own gun trained on Watson. Watson still lay on the floor, cold and dripping. He looked up at Holmes and met his eyes. Watson's expression was tense and strained.

"No Sir, you should stop. The police are close behind me." Holmes bluffed.

"I doubt it Mr. Holmes we've read of your exploits, we know that you are often a great many steps ahead of the police." Holmes knew it was true he was often long ahead of the police. But this time had helped them along. With Watson in danger Holmes did not want to take any chances. He left directions for them along the way, in hopes that they would be timely in there assistance.

Before Holmes could reply uniformed officers bursted in from every angle surrounding the crazed men who had kidnapped Watson. There assistance was timely.

John Watson was in shock. He had been from the moment pain exploded through his leg without warning. He thought in that instant he'd been shot again as pain shuddered through his body. He'd realized later that he hadn't been shot but hit, the pain in his leg was still excruciating.

Now as the police filed in and had hold of his captors he wanted to stand up. He wanted to show his captors they hadn't hurt him. That their plans to break him had failed.

As soon as the police took control of the situation Holmes's focus turned solely to Watson. His friend was trying to push himself up cold and shaking on arms of jelly. Holmes hurried to Watson's side. No words were needed Holmes understood what he needed to do. He took his friend's arm around his shoulder and hoisted him up. Watson stood with all his weight on his left leg, leaning heavily on Holmes. Still he stood as tall and as dignified as he could in the face of the men who had hurt him. He stood defiant with a soldier's pride.

They stood there as the villains cursing and struggling were taken out to the maria to be carted off to Scotland Yard.

Inspector Lestrade flipped open his notebook as he walked up to Holmes and Watson "This is a nasty bit of work. We'll be needing your statement Dr. Watson."

"Of course." Watson agreed but his resolve broke and his expression betrayed the pain he was feeling. He slumped a little more against Holmes.

Holmes and Lestrade both noticed the dramatic change in demeanor. "Perhaps a bit later Watson after you've been checked out." Lestrade respectfully closed his book. Watson shivered in his soaked clothes and winced when the movement caused him pain.

" There's a doctor waiting out front." The inspector informed.

"lets go." Holmes started to move but Watson didn't. "Watson can you walk?"

Watson's face blanched further and for the first time during the ordeal Holmes saw fear in Watson's eyes.

"Watson what is it?" Holmes got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I...I am a doctor Holmes." Watson started moving forward. Holmes was relieved that his friend was walking even if he was leaning heavily on him and gasping in pain whenever he put weight on his right leg.

"That is true yes." Holmes gripped his friend tightly around the waist and held his friends arm firmly around his shoulders taking his weight as best he could while they slowly moved to the door.

"C..can we just go home? I want to go home." Watson gritted his teeth and spoke through the throbbing pain.

Holmes looked a his friend. Watson was concentrating hard on getting to the door. A dark bruise was strikingly evident on his pale cheek. Holmes would have loved to have complied with his friend's request but one look at him told Holmes he needed to see a doctor first. "If the doctor says you can go home then we will." As they neared the front door Watson walked a little taller.

TBC...

Part 3 is coming soon it's half done. Ideas are welcome. Thank you for reading and all your reviews!


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Holmes ushered Watson out of the building, outside the doctor meet them.

Holmes couldn't help but notice the striking differences between the two doctors. Aside from the fact that his friend was in worse shape. The doctor that met them was an older, shorter, plumper, white haired gentleman who looked like he'd probably never been in a fight, ever.

The man was positively grandfatherly. He went to take Watson's other arm to help move him over to the carriage that was waiting.

Watson tensed and drew back from the man nearly toppling himself and Holmes. Holmes held strong and keeping them both up. The Doctor's concerned face intensified.

"It's alright son I'm here to help." Holmes was disconcerted by how the man spoke to Watson in a tone with which one speaks to a child. Watson composed himself and tried to put on a strong face in front of the doctor. He tried not to grimace too much as the older man took his arm and helped him to step up into the vehicle.

The doctor moved Watson up and in, and instructed him to sit down throwing a blanket over the younger man's damp shoulders. Holmes sat on the bench seat next to his friend and the doctor instructed the driver to head to the Veteran's Hospital.

Watson, unsettled, disagreed with the destination. "Home." he insisted weakly in the general direction of the doctor. The doctor took Watson's wrist and checked his pulse ignoring his patient's protest.

Watson's pulse was racing and the doctor looked warily at the younger man. "Try to relax Dr. Watson, you're among friends now."

The doctor sat across from him trying to get a good assessment of his injuries. Watson shrank back from the man and pushed closer to Holmes closing himself off to the doctor as much as possible.

Holmes observed his fiends reaction curiously. "It's alright old friend this man is only trying to help you." His encouragement not taken Watson remained in his guarded posture. He eyes darting at every movement and loud noise.

"Tell him I'm alright Holmes." Watson said his head resting against the wall of the carriage as the doctor turned to take something from his bag.

The carriage moved quickly through the streets. The cobblestones in this part of the city were anything but smooth and they rocked and bounced on the bench. Watson kept his arms wrapped around his middle and his teeth clenched.

Holmes made another mental tally Watson was vehement that he should not be taken to the hospital.

The doctor turned back from his bag with a needle at the ready. "I can give you something for the pain now if you like." He said compassionately.

"No." Watson made a stronger protest than before.

The doctor was taken aback. Watson was bloody, bruised, and obviously in pain yet refused help.

Holmes though this old doctor must never have been in contact with a kidnapping victim before. Watson was taking it upon himself to reassert some control over what was happening to him. Holmes had seen it many times before.

"That's alright son, we're here now." The doctor put a reassuring hand on Watson's knee. Then carriage came to a halted stop jerking the passengers inside. A whimper of pain slipped past Watson's lips. His hand clutched his leg as pain exploded from the sudden jarring.

While Watson reeled from the sudden shock the doctor opened the door allowing two orderlies to assist in getting an unhappy Watson out of the carriage and into the building. They whisked him away so fast Holmes didn't have time to object. He was left standing at the carriage hoping he'd made the right decision by bringing Watson here.

Inside a stark room Watson struggled as the orderlies removed his damp clothing.

"I'm fine. Really." Watson panicked as the doctor approached with a needle. In the back of his mind he knew he shouldn't be afraid of the doctor. He was a doctor, doctors were there to help people. Still he couldn't help but fight as the push the needle into his arm.

Holmes stood in the hall looking in as drugs injected into Watson took affect. His friend's nervous expression relaxed and Watson stopped struggling.


End file.
